Cherry Liquor
by ChibiChaos Mage of Chaos
Summary: Sokula. Dark Oneshot. He remembered the first time they met face to face. It was one of those memories he’d most like to forget, to burn from his memory.


**Author's Notes:**

_Eh…hello, this is my first Avatar fan fiction, not really how I thought I'd start off in this section, I was thinking more along the lines of a humourous, romantic Zutara story, however I'm rather proud of this effort. This is my first darkfic…well it's the darkest thing I've ever written and I've tried to inject some humour into parts without, hopefully, ruining the entire effect. I apologise in advance for any OOCness in the characters that you may find, however I'm not entirely sure what Zula's character is like so I'm simply depicting her like I think she will be, and well…Sokka's been through a lot. In any case, this fic is dedicated to_ Branmuffinpower_ for introducing me to this odd yet somehow appealing couple. Read on._

**Warnings: **_Dark themes in general_

**Pairings:**_ Sokka/Zula (or is it Azula?)_

**Disclaimer: **_The author forfeits any and all claim of ownership of Avatar: The Last Airbender and the characters found within it (as much as she'd like to disagree). She would like to note however, that she does own the plot to this story._

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**Cherry Liquor **

'_You desire to know the art of living, my friend? It is contained in one phrase: make use of suffering.'_

**Henri-Frédéric Amiel**

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He wasn't sure how long he'd been there, since he'd been caught. Oh, he was aware that time passed, that day and night continued their endless ritual, the rise and fall of dark and light, forever chasing one another through the cycle. To him though, everything seemed to bend and merge into a blur. Light became dark, dark became light, and colours spun together until there was nothing but black with the occasional splash of red, and he wasn't sure which was which.

Everything that is, except for her. She was always painfully clear, from her ruby red lips to her glossy black hair. Her worst aspect though, or was it the best? No, no it was undeniably the worst part about her, though no doubt her suitors saw it differently. The worst part about her, were her eyes, sharp like pins, predatory, they reminded him of a hawk or a tiger going in for the kill at times, or a kitten playing with its food at others. He had no doubts that with only a glance she could draw blood, freeze veins, or ignite great passions with those eyes if she wanted to.

His dear little tormentor.

He remembered the first time they met face to face. It was one of those memories he'd most like to forget, to burn from his memory. They had landed on island near the Fire Nation but thankfully had not yet been taken over. Katara had gone into town for more supplies, and Aang had left to visit the resting-place of an old friend that he'd learnt lived here till they're final days. So he'd been left alone, to set up camp and guard it from intruders. He'd been doing pretty well for a while there too.

Surprisingly, it was still light when they attacked, or perhaps not so surprising considering past encounters with Fire Nation soldiers. He'd been torn between gratitude and annoyance that Aang and Katara weren't there, though he was now leaning more towards gratitude since he didn't dare image what could have happened to them had they all been caught. The help would have been appreciated though. In any case, he'd fought off as many as he could before he'd been over come and knocked out.

The next time he'd woken, he had found himself with his arms shackled tightly to two metal poles. He'd been a little disconcerted to say the least. The room he inhabited was dark, cold, and completely made of metal. Several tall candelabras stood around the room, dimly lighting it with gutting candles that hissed and sparked at odd times. The soldiers who had taken him hostage were also present, or at least he assumed they were the same soldiers. They mainly ignored him, apart from the odd sneer or glare, as most had directed their attention to the entrance of the room he was in.

They waited tensely for what seemed like years before they became aware of light footsteps making their way towards them. Several minutes later she stepped through the door, several of the soldiers went white, one even looked ready to faint. All of them appeared to be preparing themselves to start running for their lives; it would have been funny if the expression of pure terror wasn't plastered on every face he could see. She padded across the floor, two others following in her wake, a tall skinny man whom reminded him of a twig, and a short, squat and incredibly muscular man who heavily resembled a very craggy rock. She took one glance at the latest prisoner before reaching the Captain, and with a small smile spoke with a soft, husky voice,

"And is _this_ the Avatar?"

The man, who towered over her slim frame, shook slightly and gulped audibly before shaking his head jerkily in a negative fashion, unable to verbally answer her question. A glint appeared in her eyes and the smile grew. Sokka had never seen a grown man so helpless looking before.

"I see."

And she did. Two words were all the warning they had. Sokka felt his breath quicken and become shallow, he hadn't thought, hadn't believed it to be possible for anyone to firebend the way she did. It was done so beautifully, the motions followed in such a graceful, fluid manner it was as though she wasn't just bending, she breathed fire, lived it; it flowed through her very veins like magma. They barely had the chance to scream. She studied slyly him through thick, long lashes, watching and gauging his reaction, he gawked at the now dust covered room.

"Pretty good hmmm?"

He raised his eyes to hers, and had to force himself to remember to breathe under their intensity.

"What's your name?"

That snapped him back to reality; he clenched his jaws and glared at her defiantly. Her eyes lit up with that gleam he'd later learn to know so well, and that terrible smile danced over her rosebud mouth. He opened his mouth to make a rather rude comment when he was forced to bite his bottom lip as he suddenly became acutely aware of a horrific pain dragging, digging, ripping across his back. Once, twice, five times before it stopped. His lip bled from where he had bitten through it, red pearls trailing down his jaw. The same coppery liquid welled up, and trickled out of the new welts that lined his back. If he tilted his head just enough, he could see the stick like man holding onto the end of a thick piece of leather, several long strips of the same material, knotted with small, sharp pieces of metal trailed to the floor from it. Light, tiny pin pricks on his chest, that he was now intensely aware of being bare, commandeered his attention. She stared up at him with an almost coy expression on her face,

"Now, let's try again shall we? What is your name?"

Sharp nails dug into his flesh like kitten claws as he tried to focus through the pain.

"Well?"

Her nails were digging in deep enough to draw blood now,

"…Sokka."

Her smile brightened and she stepped away, her hands dropping to her sides,

"Ah, Sokka is it? Well Sokka, what can you tell me about the Avatar?"

It all went downhill from there.

* * *

She was the only one he really saw now, even the other two eventually faded into the darkness. Everyday he cursed himself for his weakness, he cursed her for her soft voice singing sweet promises of relief filled with poison, most of all he cursed imparting the knowledge of his name to her. She used it at every possible opportunity, making them and the entire situation appear intimate. She'd informed him of her own name soon after he'd revealed his own; however he refused to even think of it. It annoyed her to no end that he refused to speak her name, his own little payback that generally sent of storming from the room with clenched fists and several loud explosions a few minutes later. 

Thus he'd come to ignore the sounds of combustion that sounded through the door to his room after such sessions as today. What surprised him was how close this one was; generally she tended to at least put two buildings between them before exploding, so the explosions were much fainter. The door blew inwards, billowing dirt and whatnot into the chamber. Through the dust came two faces he'd almost given up hope of seeing again.

"Sokka!"

He sighed and reviled in the sound of someone other than _her_ saying his name. Aang had already started to hack at the shackles with a blade he'd grabbed on the way in; sparks flew as metal met metal again, and again, and again. A sudden gasp from behind him told him that his sister had discovered his injuries. He turned is head, ready to reassure her that they looked far worse than they really were, when another noise grabbed his attention. Returning his gaze to the door, he nearly coked upon seeing the Fire Nation Prince himself standing there, a key attached to a large ring dangling from his hand. Sokka desperately opened his mouth, hoping to warn his sister and friend, so was surprised to see Katara look up and notice the Prince with an expression of relief on her face, along with something else he couldn't quite pinpoint. Zuko, much to Sokka's growing shock, simply grinned back her with an oddly soft look in his eyes,

"Need a hand?"

"It would be appreciated."

As the locks to his shackles were now quickly dealt with, Sokka numbly wondered again just how long he'd been held prisoner and what the hell had happened during that time. He rubbed his raw wrists as he stretched limbs that hadn't been used in who knows how long, surprisingly it was Zuko who gripped his arm, acting as a support for Sokka while he regained the use of his legs. The small group hurriedly made their way from the room.

* * *

The surroundings reminded him of the tales that Nana used to tell Katara and him, of incredible battles between good and evil, where there was always a final showdown, before they sent to bed as young children. Compared to this, the truth though, the stories seemed romantic and idealistic in their black and white nature. He was both amazed and impressed with the sheer number of supporters that Aang and the others had managed to gather in his absence. There was also a pang of sorrow that he hadn't been there with them, hadn't participated in meeting and befriending these people who had joined their cause. Katara seemed to sense his mood as she smiled at him and squeezed his hand in an attempt to give some comfort. 

The group ducked, rolled and wove their way through the masses, landing hits where they could. Zuko had released his grip on Sokka when it became apparent that he could support himself once more, instead turning his attention to cutting a path for them through the continuously moving crowd. Sokka had picked up a spear somewhere along the way, his boomerang being lost to him since he'd first arrived here. However he wielded his new weapon with the ferocity of the desperate.

He nearly let it slip through is grip though, when the once glaringly defined battle scenes before him dulled and faded into meaningless blobs. Only person could do that to him. He didn't even have to turn really, one moment there was an empty patch of grass, the next she was there, as graceful and regal as ever in crimson silk. The others were gone; he was alone again, with her. His heart thumped rapidly in his ears, so loudly he was sure she could hear it. She smiled gently at him, as she was accustomed to doing, and glided closer to his suddenly frozen body, one hand outstretched towards him, the red polish on them glistening in the sun. Regaining control of his body, he took a step back and softly uttered the one word he swore would never cross his lips, the word he kept locked away in a dark corner of his mind where he never had to see it,

"Zula"

She stopped, disbelief dashed across her face momentarily as she gazed at him, before that wicked little smile, the one that curled at the edges of her lips and look so perfect on her face, took its place. Without warning, she closed the gap between them. By the time he could move to react, she'd raised an arm and dragged his head down to hers in a soul scorching kiss that lasted barely half a second, or maybe as long as half a century, he wasn't sure, until she just as abruptly let him go, the smirk never leaving her lips,

"Until next time then…Sokka,"

He barely blinked and she had disappeared into the crowd, leaving him to stare after her, it took him several minutes to realise that she'd had his cherished weapon tucked into the belt of her robes.

"Sokka!"

The voice woke him from his glazed eyed daze. He glanced up from his slumped position on the earth as Katara ran up to him, darting around fighting parties as best she could,

"What happened? How did you get lost? Why are you just sitting there? Are you in pain?"

He grunted unintelligently at the questions and allowed her to drag him to his feet and over to where Aang and Zuko stood, the former with an added air of worry around him for his friend. One thought continuously echoed through his head, despite the best efforts of his conscience to silence it, as the orders for a retreat were given and the small band reached Appa to escape the battlefield.

'Dark chocolate and black cherries make a good combination.'

**FIN**

**Authors Notes:**

_Right, well that's it, what did you think? Good? Bad? What the hell were you thinking when you wrote this? I am rather proud of this piece, but constructive criticism is always welcome. Later guys! _


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